The morning had dawned clear and cold, with a crispness that hinted at the end of summer, or maybe Harry had simply been away from the North for too long, he thanked Lord Cerwyn for his hospitality and started the half-day trek to Winterfell as the day dawned. Surefoot whinnied in anticipation, the gelding's speed increasing as they made the approach. Surefoot was a Dothraki dapple grey and knew the os from Winterfell to the Vale better than most. Os, he was doing it again, using Dothraki words. It wasn't an os, it was a road.
Harry allowed his thoughts to wander as he made the final approach to Winterfell. Winterfell was a strange and interesting place for a young man, especially one that had spent most of his life in the Vale. Harry had technically stopped being Ned Stark's ward after his sixteenth name day, yet Jon Arryn had encouraged him to spend more time there. Not that he minded, the maids seemed to adore his blonde hair. Theon was older, but Theon was technically a prisoner, Harry was not, he was welcome to go between Winterfell and the Vale as he pleased. This would be the last visit for a while though, with Jon Arryn spending more and more time traveling around the Realm Harry would soon be stepping up to actively run the Vale, he was ready, he knew he was ready, he just needed to convince his great uncle of it. That was why he had returned to Winterfell, for advice on how to broach the subject.
Winterfell was like a second home to him (or was that third home?) and Harry was treated well. The weather was a touch on the cold side, but the company was interesting. Robb and Jon were two years Harry's junior, but in some ways they were more mature than Theon. Theon Greyjoy, whom was two years older than Harry, but in no way Harry's senior. Theon the lush… Theon the prisoner… Theon rhae mhar… he was thinking in Dothraki again.
Theon, Robb, and Harry were all the heirs to their respective Houses, yet Jon got the same lessons about leading and ruling that they did, Ned intended to give him some land when he was older, Moat Cailin, and why not? He had Stark blood and was sensible enough. Harry had inspected the progress on the site during his journey north, it would be an impressive fortress when it was done. All of this natural born/true born nonsense was a bit of a lark at times, nobody argued about naming a bastard boy when there was a space that needed filling. A good thing really, Harry already had a bastard of his own, little Alys Stone, and he expected his return to Winterfell would be accompanied by news that he would soon be father to a Snow. It wasn't his fault that the Poole girl had slipped into his bed. He wasn't marrying Alys' mother, and he wouldn't marry the Poole girl either, but he'd do right by his bastard children. That was another matter Harry needed to discuss with Ned, he would need much advice there as well.
Harry had questioned why he'd been left at Winterfell at first, the Northerners thinking and speech was so different, they prayed to different gods, he hadn't seen how it could prepare him for ruling the Vale. He had resented being left there, especially as Mya had been left there as well, but then he'd had a different view of bastards back then. Mya was Robert Baratheon's he knew that now, no wonder Jon Arryn and Ned Stark were both so protective of her. They'd spoken of it in hushed voices, but not hushed enough.
The North had changed Harry's thinking, and his speech, over time. People in Winterfell spoke strangely, Northerners spoke strangely enough, that was true, occasional words from the old tongue snuck through, oft leaving Harry confused, but Winterfell was different. It was the Dothraki words, and how they flowed into Winterfell's everyday speech, that felt strange upon his tongue. Although maybe the words did not feel quite as strange as he thought they should? He might not be fluent in Dothraki, but he could understand much more than he could say.
Onqothat, Irvosat, Karilnat, these were everyday words to him now, horse speeds. Most would say walk, trot, gallop, but not here. Dothraki words slipped in everywhere orvik in place of whip, orzi in place of shoe or boot, os instead of path or road… sometimes he wondered what good learning Dothraki did him? Yet it was impossible not to learn it, especially with young Arya babbling it constantly. His guards had looked at him strangely when he'd said he was ready to go down the os from the Eyrie, only his closest guards had understood. Then maybe that was the point? Yes! He would ask Ned if he could take a Dothraki woman and her guard husband into his service, Jasatti maybe? She always seemed happy. Having a secret language for him and his guards could be quite useful.
Who would have thought that six liberated Dothraki slaves (and some pretty horses) could change a place so much? Not that Harry minded the horses, he'd been gifted a beautiful dapple grey gelding for his sixteenth name day and the horse was sure-footed enough that he could walk the narrow track from the waycastle of Sky to the Eyrie proper just as nimbly as the mules that lived on the track, that was why he'd named it Surefoot. They had tried him with a colt at first, a beast of a horse, dark grey and black, and so wild the beast should have been put down. The monster had thrown him twice, then tried to bite him, then suddenly young Arya had been there, one hand on the horse's bridal, voice gentle and calming. The wild girl had settled the monster quickly, then turned on Harry as if he was the one at fault. She'd saved that colt from gelding that day, but Ned would be a fool to let her ride it. The girl had named it black-blade or something equally silly.
As the gates to Winterfell came into sight a smile lit up Harry's face. The guards knew him by name and greeted him warmly, pools of hot water (diverted from the hot pools in the godswood) bubbled in large stone basins in the courtyards, providing warmth, the same hot water flowed in pipes through the walls. Men (and some women, Winterfell was strange like that) trained in the various yards. A stable hand offered to take Surefoot, but Harry knew better, you had to be different with Dothraki horses, you had to form a true bond. He led the gelding into the stables himself, removed the packs and saddles, and then began to brush the horse down. "Good boy, Surefoot, you've done me well." He whispered.
"You should speak to him in Dothraki." A young voice said, Arya Stark, the wild little wolf. 'Ver Zolat Ivezh' the Dothraki called her.
Harry turned and mock bowed to the girl, she was two stables over, braiding the tail of that beast of a horse. "And good day to you, little ver." Ver, wolf, the words were interchangeable. He took in her attire, she was dressed like a boy as per usual. Her hair in a stupid braided bun with two braids coming out the bottom of it. She had a whip on one hip and her sword on the other. The sword was a work of art, and Harry had to admit that he was slightly jealous of it. The handle was weirwood, enhanced with moonstone, and the blade had runes inscribed upon it. But Arya wasn't usually allowed to wear her sword, not unless she was the acting Stark of Winterfell. "Why aren't you in the training yard?" He asked.
Arya shrugged. "Something about a deserter from the Night's Watch, Father's gone to do the King's Duty, taken the boys with him."
"Even Bran?" Harry questioned, he thought Bran was a bit young to watch a beheading.
Arya nodded. "Even Bran," She replied. "It's his first."
Harry frowned. "Have you ever seen a beheading?" He asked, his stomach twisting at the memory of the first one he'd seen.
"No." Arya answered angrily. "It's not fair, I'm braver than-"
Harry caught her arm, forcing her to look at him. "You can only truly be brave when you are afraid. Death is not a pretty thing, zolat wolf, people shit themselves when they die, did you know that?"
"No." Arya whispered.
Harry nodded. "You will see enough of death," He advised solemnly, "Everybody does, but don't be in a hurry to see your first one." He pulled a face, this conversation was getting too serious. "Come, Lady Stark, help me with my horse, then help me find some lunch, I'm famished."
~~/~~